Crumbs and Scones Shall Lead You Home
by Sdiana7
Summary: Synopsis: US/Uk Muliti chapter, Hurt/Comfort story beginning with American Revolution. Revolves around both historic tensions between America And Britain, as well as America's coping issues with food, and weight problems. I want development a narrative where his weight/food issue to be more derived from childhood loneliness and neglect.
1. Prologue

Crumbs and Scones Shall Lead you Home

Synopsis: US/Uk Muliti chapter, Hurt/Comfort story beginning with American Revolution. This is a story I've wanted to develop for a long time, but this is only my second fic overall, so bear with me. I've wanted to write a story concerning the classic scenario of America's weight insecurities. However, I want to steer away from the scenario where, America gets teased in a World Meeting about his weight, then runs home crying and/or developments an eating disorder. I don't want to write a feeding fetish story either. Rather, I want to develop a scenario where America battles a lifelong (well centuries long) psychological dependency on food, and subsequently developments insecurities regarding his body image. But rather than have him develop a full blown eating disorder, I'm working on a more complex development of American resorting to food as a coping mechanism, due to experiencing long periods of isolation, especially with his Guardian/Parent being away for so long, and watching his friends grow up and grow away from him. The prologue highlights much of the backstory behind England's established relationship with Young America, as well as the years building up to the 1760s, where tensions grew with Parliament. I admit I'm rather rusty on American History, it seems like APUSH was so long ago...

Anyhow, again, this is my first multi chapter story, so reviews and critique regarding consistency, dialogue and development will all be greatly appreciated. :)

Warning: Body shaming, emotional abuse.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Characters are own by Himaruya Hidekaz.

Prologue

In a lovely little townhouse in the New England countryside, not far from Boston Harbor, there lived a curious little boy by the name of Alfred F. Jones. He was a robust, rosy, and plump young lad, who appeared to be no more than seven or eight years old, with an enormous appetite for food, for adventure, and for life.

For many years, it seemed that the boy may have been orphaned, or perhaps taken on as an apprentice of some sort. But curiosity naturally aroused among colonists, as the boy never seemed to age. If anything, the boy seemed to grow a bit rounder every year, instead of taller. Rumors of witchcraft, though greatly subsided since the reign of Puritan hysteria, still persisted in the fledgling colonies.

Eternal youth…was it truly possibly to attain? Or was Leon's vain quest for the Fountain of Youth merely a legend spurred by the hysteria of witchcraft? But this world was young, was different from the Old World. The borders of nations, of kingdoms and empires, which seemed so clearly defined in the Old World, did not persist in this one. Indeed, it was not until the establishment of the thirteen American Colonies that borders even began to exist in this new world.

And the notion of identity in this new world…Indeed, how were the colonists to identify themselves? What were they to call themselves? Englishman hailed from England, and spoke English, Frenchmen from France, and so forth.

But the men and women of the new world, they were different. They resembled the Europeans in dress, appearance, and in language, yet, generations emerged whereupon _fair_ skinned descendants of Europe could no longer call themselves Europeans, as they were born and raised in this new world, not in the old….

As such, there was something about this curious lad, Alfred, that no longer roused suspicion, but wonder… No longer did young Alfred seem exotic to them, but rather he seemed to emulate them. A pale blonde boy, with blue eyes that seemed to reflect the American skies.

Before England officially settled and seized control of the thirteen colonies, young Alfred spoke in a nordic dialect that has long since died out, a dialect even he no longer remembers.

It was then that the American colonists began to understand that this boy exemplified a new land, with new customs and identities, and perhaps one day, a new nation.

Though he now embodied a new identity for the people inhabiting his lands, young Alfred was very difficult to contain. Though he frequented the outskirts of Boston the most, Alfred was also known to gambol about the entire New England Countryside, as well the scenic towns along the Hudson in New York. Indeed, Alfred preferred to roam Colony to Colony, seeking adventure.

But for this New World to thrive, the colonists would have to contain this young representative, and require him to settle down according to the norms of civilized society.

It was then that young Alfred was forced to attend…school, which really frustrated the poor boy. Though he was considered a darling among the ladies of the town, Alfred struggled to get along with many of the children in the village in which he lived, and at the schoolhouse at which he attended. In those days, children of all ages were thrust into the same school room, though generally provided age appropriate lessons. Though this one room school house set up was initially comforting to Alfred, given that he himself had been around for over a century, and did not mature at the same rate of normal human children. Even so, Alfred was often teased by other children. He was rather slow to learn, and formal lessons with geography, arithmetic, and all that rot was incredibly difficult and boring to him. Indeed, the boy much preferred to hear tales of adventure and heroism, and to learn by exploring and experimenting.

As such, Jolly Olde England himself agreed it was high time the boy receive a proper education, and it no longer had time to take it upon himself to do so as his presence was required in his homeland, and thus could no longer detain himself for months at a time in the colonies.

At first, young America complied, but as the years went on, England's visits became shorter and less frequent. The young colony grew weary of lessons and grammar, as the more tutors attempted to bombard him with instruction, the more insecure he grew about his lack of ability. And unfortunately, this insecurity only escalated when Alfred was forced to attend school. Even the younger children seemed to grasp these new concepts more quickly than he, and many of them would quickly move on to more advanced lessons. Alfred, as such, remained in the same school room, whereupon months turned years, and the once cheerful and outgoing young lad became withdrawn, and very depressed.

And upon returning to his lovely New England country home, Alfred found solace in food.

Indeed, England saw to it that the boy was looked after. Every morning, he was provided a solid breakfast of bacon, eggs, grits, and flapjacks. He would secretly munch on fruit and pastries throughout the school day, and then return home to delightful feast of whatever he wanted.

He could pack away seven lamb chops, eleven helpings of potatoes, at least half a loaf of bread, a whole basket of dumplings, and 5 helpings of strudel for dessert.

The servants preparing his meals simply chocked up his enormous appetite to his being a growing boy and all. After all, sooner or later he would grow into a powerful man, perhaps more powerful than Great Britain himself. But perhaps, they did not realize, or did not want to, that the rosy, robust lad was growing into a fat little butterball, which led to his being teased at school, his inability to keep up with active play with other children, and more profoundly, a dangerous cycle of depression, indulgence, and shame.

By the 1740s, England's visits always brought with them a sharp sense of urgency and expectation. Both at which, filled young America with a deep sense of foreboding.

Whereupon one time, the island nation would, upon seeing his charge rushing toward him, hold out his arms with a brilliant smile, and receive the boy in a gracious tackle hug.

But now, it seemed that, upon seeing his charge when he returned to the American Colonies, Great Britain became more distant and reserved. Indeed, young America became rather uneasy under the gaze of Sovereign Nation, especially with the way those penetrating green eyes would fixate upon him during meal times. Needless to say, young Alfred was well aware that he was….well fed. But food and toys became his crux. His interactions with other children became less frequent what with the constant teasing, and watching his few friends grow up and grow away from him.

Needless to say, in the present year of 1764, The young American Colony had become very anxious about seeing Mr. Britain again. He had grown quite a few inches, but his tummy bulged quite noticeably beneath his sweater, and his bottom wobbled whenever he walked. And he was behind in his schooling. He hated maths, and refused to learn cursive. What was the point in learning all new letters, when he already knew how to read?

Oh well, the lad hardly had time to worry about that now. The ships were docking soon, and the old Englishman would soon be in a rather cantankerous mood, so the household servants were scrambling to get everything in order upon his arrival.

The American Colonies were no longer just a haphazard string of villages, struggling to survive.

No, they were now subordinates to the Mother Country, Great Britain. And they had to represent and answer to Great Britain as such.

Order and proper government were required, and Ladies and Gentlemen were to present themselves as such. Though they were eager to please and present themselves accordingly to Britain himself, there was a great deal of discord regarding tensions with Parliament, regarding the Stamp Tax the year prior. However, the American Colonists now eagerly awaited the Great Brit himself, as he always brought goods tidings from England and the outside world.

And that is where our story begins, regarding the dawning of the American Revolution, a war for Independence, and a rift between parent and child.


	2. Chapter 1: Reunited

Crumbs and Scones Shall Lead You Home

Chapter 1: Reunited

Awaiting the arrival of the Great nation himself, the servants of the large New England Country hurried to tend last minute details. Every inch of the large manor was swept, mopped, and scrubbed and scoured. This particular mansion was a bit different than some of the more traditional New England homes. While it encompassed the traditional furnishing and décor of the old world, it was also equipped with more modern conveniences, of which, very few colonists could afford. These included an indoor bath, latrine, and two pumps, one in the bathroom and the other in the kitchen. The house was also much more spacious than most homes, and was two stories high, complete with eight bedrooms, England's private study, which encased an elaborate library. There was well equipped a kitchen, with an equally well stocked pantry. And, of course, a spacious dining hall, a grand staircase and foyer,and a master suite and drawing room, all specially furnished with the grand European décor, as well as the modern conveniences, that allowed for the comfort and luxury of an emerging upper class in the new world. Although it was originally modeled as a quaint little English house, fit for two immortal beings to escape to and relish each other's company, the New World had drastically changed since the haphazard settlement of those early colonies.

In the old home, there was no need for pretense. No need to fuss over furnishings, or to entertain statesmen. It was a simple little getaway home for a young single parent and his new found child.

But as the prestige of the British colonies grew, so did the need to keep up appearances. Though England loved his young charge very much, his own ambition and thirst for world power led him to see Young America as more of an asset than the tiny boy who captured the heart of a man who had lived many lifetimes of bloodshed, war, and grief, who believed he would never know what it truly felt like to love, to be loved….

But of course, he still loved America, though as a colony of the British Empire, the lad had many any obligation to fulfill, especially now that he was much older. And that required the boy to fully comprehend the ways of a gentleman. As such, the once rustic country home was now rebuilt and remodeled as a large manor, and the young colony himself was expected to serve as a primped and pretty symbol, just as grand.

And yet, having already outlived all of his own colonists, and having experienced so much self doubt and disappointment, America became much more aware the expectations his sovereign had of him, and feared that he would never be truly able to fulfill them….

Alfred's thoughts were drawn back to the present, as there was a distinct sound of horns blowing in the distance, and what sounded like a lot of increased hustle and bustle in the village. His hand clasped to the letter he received from England two weeks prior. Though it was dated the twelfth of October, today was the ninth of December. It could take a ship as much as six weeks to cross the Atlantic, as such, communication was slow. Yet, the rare affectionate letter, addressed to no one else but him, brought a sense of hope and security these past two weeks.

It read

 _My Dearest Alfred,_

 _I certainly hope you are well. Though the Colonies seem to be flourishing, there still appears to be some strife in over Parliament's call for increased taxation and quartering. I know you are still young, my boy, but I do recall once telling you that allowances much be made in times of war. And I'm afraid the Continental war with the French and Natives has cost the British treasury a great sum of money. You do understand, my dear boy, that all this was done for your protection. And now those depleted monies must be replenished with levied taxation on imports. And though I shall always strive to see to your comfort and security, I'm afraid you must brace yourself for some lean times. I depart for Boston in about three weeks. Though I'm afraid I shall arrive a little later than expected, as I've still quite a few matters to attend to with Parliament, I surely plan to spend Christmas with my favourite Colony. Now, see to it that you are on your best behaviour, and attend to your studies. When I arrive, I expect perfect marks in Geography and Grammar. I shall drill you personally, young man. Know that t'is precisely because I've so much faith in you that from you, I expect great things._

 _But, alas! We shall be reunited once more, and be together just like old times._

 _All my love,_

 _Arthur_

Though the news of tension in the Colonies seemed rather ominous, and England himself seemed rather curt and wound up when he came to visit the spring before, America couldn't help but blush and giggle like a school girl every time he glanced over this letter. Even the parchment smelt of Arthur. Who cared what the Colonists were grumbling about? Arthur was coming, and from the tone of his letter, he seemed like his old self again.

America was now, in appearance, about twelve years old in human years. Had hadn't quite hit puberty yet, and was still under five feet tall, but he was really starting to mature in ways he himself did not yet realize. He was told long ago by his Puritan settlers, that having any kind of impure thoughts was a sin, and when he got older, he would need to restrain himself. Alfred hadn't quite understand what they meant at the time, but he was instilled with enough fear not to question them.

Yet, though he really did not experience any kind of sexual urges yet, he began to have these strange feelings towards England. Especially, since the 1740s, when England's demeanor began to really change. For instance, as a child, he was used to England seeing him naked and helping him bath. He thought nothing of it. But as of late, England's gaze upon him seemed to be fixed with all the more scrutiny. And as such, the boy became much more self conscious.

And there was the more obvious, current issue where the lad, though still growing, seemed to be gaining much more in weight than in height. He had noticed how, the last time he was fitted for new clothes, the Old Brit and the tailor shared an odd glance when wrapping the measuring tape around the boy's waistline.

And yet, it was a strange feeling. As though, the more the Old Englishman scrutinized him, the more America felt himself blush under that watchful emerald gaze. The boy knew he had gotten quite fat, the local schoolchildren made it known to him, even if the adults constantly tried to reassure him. But, he realized just how self conscious he had become. He couldn't quite hide the rounded belly that bulged rather noticeably underneath his sweater, nor the double chin that threatened to descend any day now. There was a time when Alfred would hardly want to get dressed, let alone have a tailor fit him, but the more self conscious he became over the years regarding his appearance, the more he tried to present himself, in appearance and in manner, as befitting of a "Gentleman." And as such, Alfred was given a good bathing, and dressing, and grooming, so that the only hair out of place was Nantucket itself. He pulled his sweater vest as tightly as he could over his stomach to make it less noticeable, but he sighed, looking into the mirror, fearing it was a lost cause.

The lad's soft blue eyes wandered up to the reflection of his face. He smiled, as he realized that he was a very handsome young boy. He could not explain this strange desire, but he really hoped he looked good enough for Jolly Olde England. He blushed fiercely upon thinking about it, but he really wanted to look more than just good. He wanted to look pretty for England. It didn't make sense, he reasoned. Only girls were supposed to look pretty. But beneath his boyish charm and antics, Alfred had some seemingly feminine tendencies as well, especially when he thought of England. For one thing, he actually liked the nighties he wore when he was little, and he still had a particular preference for pretty bow ties. He would try putting them in his hair like the girls did, but that was often met with derision, and he was forced to keep his hair short.

And so he stuck to neck ties. But he was allowed to wear pretty colors. Today he picked out a bright blue one that matched his eyes. For the first time in awhile, young America smiled at his reflection. He truly had a beautiful smile, one in which those dazzling pearly whites, those soft pink lips, those rosy, chubby cheeks, all radiated in the beautiful winter sunlight.

" _Master Alfred!"_

America gave a quick start as nurse maid beckoned to him from the main hallway.

"Young Master," She gently wrapped on the door. "May I come in?"

"Yes, Ma'm, I almost done!" Alfred replied, almost panicking.

A pretty Dutch woman, in her twenties entered the child's bedroom. It was quite large compared to the standard bedrooms of colonial houses, though smaller than England's master bedroom. It was delicately painted bright blue, America's favorite color, to match that of both his eyes and his skies, with gold trim around the borders, and beautiful white clouds and horses dashing across the skies. America's bed was a four poster with similar trimmings, with soft goose feather pillows, and his favorite stuffed rabbits and teddies. In the corner by the first window, and on one side of his bed, was his basin and looking glass, and his wardrobe and divider was on the other side near the doorway. The other side of the room contained a writing desk and fireplace, with the boy's rocking horse and many other toys strewn about the floor.

America was often chided for being too old now to have all these toys in his bedroom. But he simply could not part with them. He had some of these toys, including Mr. Mint Bunny, since infancy, and they brought many hours of playful joy and imagination.

Alfred's nursemaid, one Serena Van Tussell, turned toward him and softly chided him for not picking up his toys.

"Now come, Young Master. We must present ourselves accordingly." She fussed over his bow tie, and sweater vest. When Alfred was given a final going over, he could a bit of commotion from outside his bedroom window. He immediately rushed over to see if it was the long awaited Brit. And sure enough, an elegant horse drawn carriage had pulled up in front of the gate. There appeared to be a great deal luggage loaded onto the back, and no sooner had the carriage come to a halt, when attendants emerged to tend to the gate, and a footman hopped off to open the cabin door, no doubt to unveil someone of great prestige.

And sure enough, there emerged a slight but stately figure, elegant dressed in his finest Military attire, sash, medals, colors, and all. The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland himself. As he swiftly and gracefully strode up the path to the manor, all the servants and attendants greeted him with all the fuss and sycophancy of an English Royal.

"Do come, Alfred!" Miss Van Tussell chided as she hurried the boy out of his bedroom, and to the staircase leading to the foyer. It was then that Alfred began to panic. He could just see the familiar outline of Mr. Britain, laced in red and gold, near the entrance to the Grand Hall.

As Miss Van Tussell lead him down the staircase, he could see Brit looked rather stern, very different from the way he used to look. Though Britain himself never wore the wigs and ponytails of European fashion, his usually unkempt dirty blond hair, was now golden and elegantly combed back. His features looked hardened, his dress pristine. But what was most striking was his expression and tone. He'd always those thick black eyebrows, but they now seemed to be perpetually furrowed. His once warm gleaming green eyes, seemed to pierce into their fixed target. And that now he could be reprimanding one younger footman, America could hear the striking difference in the tone in which he spoke.

"And see that it is tended to properly next time! Now I'm afraid I turn in early. I trust my chamber is in order? Please have tea and sandwiches brought sent up shortly."

The island nation barked in an accent, that was quite distinct. It seems quite posh and clear, and a noticeable lacking in the emphasis of his 'R' sounds.

"Yes, sir. Will that be all, sir?" The footman replied timidly.

Alfred was now in the foyer, and barely twenty feet away from the man he now loved and feared more than ever.

"Yes, yes. Now where is that bo-"

The Englishman paused in mid sentence as gaze finally met Alfred's.

America's blue eyes were wide with terror, his face going bright red, and despite his larger size, he felt himself shrink in the presence of his sovereign.

England's own eyes seemed to widen in shock as he quickly gazed the boy up and down. He could not help but notice that the boy had put on a lot of weight. But he could immediately sense that the boy seemed uncharacteristicly shy and anxious, as he had his head down, and was quite red faced, and almost sweating. And so, forgoing all his recently assumed formalities, he knelt down to meet the boy at eye level.

With a gentle nudge from his nurse maid, Alfred was forced to look up and make eye contact.

As he did so, he looked up into, not the piercing eyes of a terrible empire, but the warm gaze with which Arthur always greeted him so long ago. No words, or formal greetings needed to be said. The British Empire became Jolly Olde England once more and held out his arms for his favorite colony to rush into.

England could immediately see the lovely lad's eyes light up as he hurried over to his Guardian.

As he pulled the boy into his embrace, he could feel that the Young Colony was noticeably softer, rounder, and quite heavy now. But, none of that mattered right now.

"My sweet boy…I've missed you so…." He whispered into the boy's ear as he was near sobbing.

The one person, the one being in this whole world who truly loved England as much as England loved him, was now in his arms, and with whom he was hopefully here to stay for awhile…


	3. Chapter 2: Insecurities

Chapter 2: Insecurities

"I've missed you so, oh my dear boy…" The Old Englishman repeated, embracing his young colony with every fiber of his being.

"I've missed you too, Mr. Britain. It's been so long…" Young America finally piped up.

"Oh, come, come, lad. There's no need to be formal."

As the boy hitched his breath to stifle a sob, the older man gently patted his back, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. He then realized the nurse maid was still standing there.

Irritated, and wanting a bit of privacy with his child, he turned to her and said promptly,

"That'll be all, Miss-?"

"Van Tassell, My Lord." Replied the maid with a curtsy.

"Ah, yes. Forgive me, there seem to be so many new faces here." England stumbled. "I can't seem to keep up. But you may go to your dinner, Love. I shall see to the boy from here."

Turning back to America, he chirped, "I say! Let's have a proper look at you!"

The boy blushed and looked down a bit shyly.

"Heavens, boy! Since when have you got a clamp on that trap of yours? You're usually chattering away as soon as I arrive? Hmm?" England's face fell, and inquired in a softer tone. "Why are we suddenly so shy, lad?"

"You're not mad at me, Mr. Britain, Sir?" The boy looked up, those blue eyes glistening all the more as though he were choking back tears.

England arched an impressive eyebrow. "And why should I be angry, my dear boy?"

He replied, inquisitively.

"Well, I-" The young seemed to fumble over his words, as though he were curious as to why he was spared from some sort of criticism upon Great Britain's arrival.

"Oh, come, come! I'm afraid I'm rather weary from all of these formalities . Come, you shall take tea with me." Gently pinching Alfred's rosy cheek, the Island nation finally got the boy to smile.

But England soon realized the Nurse Maid and Footman were still present. He shifted his gaze, and politely requested that he and the boy be left in peace.

"Yes, out with all of you!" He muttered vindictively under his breath. But turning back towards Alfred, he assumed a more pleasant tone. "But, ah, I say lad. Don't you look dapper? That uh ribbon goes quite splendid with your cravat. I say you are becoming quite the Gentleman, right before my very eyes."

America blushed furiously, and glanced down at himself, delighted that England complemented him on his silk ribbon, as well as his appearance. England led him up the staircase, towards the master bedroom. When they arrived, England removed his jacket, and loosened his cravat, grumbling about random things, including his fastenings, Parliament, the stage coach. He also began to frantically rummage through the luggage that had already been brought up to his bedroom upon his arrival.

America looked around the room, as it had been awhile since he was allowed in here. When he was very small, and had nightmares, he would come sleep in England's enormous four poster bed, with it's beautiful silk sheets and curtains, speckled in red and gold. Even when England was away, sleeping in his bedroom provided America with some comfort, at least until the servants to whose charge he was entrusted insisted he sleep in his own bedroom.

"America? Come lad!" Alfred was brought back into the present as the old Brit seemed to revert back into a more cheerful mood, and gestured him towards the bad.

He smiled warmly upon Alfred as the boy gently made his way towards the bed, but then arched an enormous eyebrow upon noticing that boy intended to hop into bed fully dressed. Granted it was still early in the day, but the boy was always one to prefer comfort over countenance.

"Alfred, you do look splendid, my dear boy, but surely you won't be comfortable in your waistcoat."

"No!" The boy protested in alarm, as the Brit made an attempt to help him remove his waistcoat.

England frowned. "I say, dear boy! What ever is the matter?"

America began to blush fiercely again, and stumbled over his words. "I..I just look better with my clothes on…."

At least the Brit understood. The boy was very self conscious now. He sighed, and motioned for Alfred to hop up on the bed.

The boy hesitated at first, but complied, and in doing so made himself comfortable under the blankets, and when he tried to snuggle up against the Island nation, he noticed that the Brit was eyeing him warily.

Alfred gasped as he realized that sitting up in bed only made the protrusion of his belly all the more prominent, and the buttons on his coat were doing all they could to not pop off and go hurling across the room. He blush fiercely, his ears even going bright red.

England, however, could the boy was distressed, embarrassed even. Of course, he knew Alfred had been steadily putting on weight for a long time. He tried not to worry, as seeing the boy plump and rosy ensured that the colonies would not starve and die out. He was still a growing colony, after all. But the old man could now see that boy wasn't just "well fed" or "Plump" even. The boy a right proper double chin, his arms and legs were like tree trunks, and his belly, as was all the more apparent at the present moment, was absolutely enormous.

The old Brit thought of jokingly patting the boy's belly, to signal to him that he needn't feel ashamed, but stopped himself at the sight of tears rolling down Alfred's eyes.

"Alfred? Oh my dear boy!" He swooped the colony into his embrace. But at this point Alfred began to heave as he hitched his breath between sobs, which caused the old Brit to panic, as it would any parent upon seeing his child sob in agony.

"Alfred, lad, please look at me!"

The young colony complied, but gazing upward, instead of letting the old man comfort him, he burst out. "Why?! I already know what you're thinking. You're wondering how I've gotten so fat! I try to look nice for you, like a gentleman, and you just want me to undress so you can make fun like everybody else does!"

The English man was truly taken aback at this sudden outburst. He surely hadn't intended to make fun of the boy. It then dawned on him how much his increasing absence was hurting his colony. He signed wearily, as the sudden guilt was too much for him. But he couldn't give in, not if he was to truly help his young charge.

The boy was sobbing more quietly now, with a few hiccups here and there. But he almost squeaked as England pulled him closer.

"England?-"

"Alfred, my boy. Do listen to me." Arthur gently but firmly chided, rubbing the boy's cheek.

"I do love you more than anything, my dear boy. But you have indeed, put on a lot of weight, lad, and it appears to be causing you quite a bit of suffering. But I see this is my fault. I'm afraid my negligence is to blame here. From here on out, we shall take up riding and hunting together. I suppose it's high time I teach you how to shoot."

America's face perked up, and he smiled softly.

"Really? You mean it?"

"Of course, my dear boy. We shall make a proper soldier and hunter out of you! But come, lad. Do let's remove that jacket."

America looked down shyly, but acquiesced. His small hands moved toward the buttons, but England, intervened. "Now, chop chop, I'm afraid these buttons shan't hold against your belly any longer." He added, tickling the boy, as he undid the buttons for him. Upon removing the waistcoat, the old Brit could see the true extent of Alfred's bulk, though the boy wouldn't let him touch his undershirt.

At last, the nation and the colony were happily cuddled in bed, the elder gently soothing and comforting his young charge. He could see the young lad remained guarded and insecure, even in his guardian's embrace. He saw that Alfred still had the silk ribbon tied around his neck.

The old Brit suddenly had an idea that would encourage his young charge.

America turned as England gently removed his neck ribbon, and gazed up, wide eyed, at his mentor. "England?-" The Brit gently held a finger to Alfred's lips, and proceeded to tie the ribbon in the boy's hair, as a girl would wear it.

Alfred almost squeaked as his went red, but relaxed at his mentor's beaming expression.

"America, I wonder if you're almost too pretty to be a boy."

At that, the young colony looked up and radiated the most beautiful smile Great Britain had ever. With his sparkling blue eyes, his soft rosy cheeks, that smile radiated everything that was truly beautiful in this New World that was known as "America."

But just as the embodiments of Old and New Worlds were about to finally settle and sleep away the rest of the day, the old Brit remembered something important.

"I say!" He bellowed as he bolted out of bed, startling his pretty young charge.

He ran rummaged through his luggage again, and making his way back towards the bed, he smirked knowingly, with his arm behind his back.

America looked puzzled for a moment, but then realized England brought him something, as he usually did upon returning to American Colonies.

"Now close your eyes, Alfred." England gently chided.

Alfred did as he was told, and when he finally opened his eyes, he was presented with a magnificent teddy bear, elegantly decked in his own military uniform, complete with a sash and regimental colors. Only instead of a bright red uniform characteristic of the British military, this fellow had a dashing navy blue uniform.

The young colony looked up at his mentor, with happiness radiating behind the now dried tear stains around his eyes.

"Arthur?" He now now informally addressed his sovereign by his Christian name.

"Can I really have it?"

"Of course, my dear boy." Chuckled the old Brit. "I had him customized especially for you."

"But he's wearing a blue coat…" America looked puzzled as he said this, turning his new teddy this way and that, observing the meticulously sewn fabric, and medals.

"Of course, my boy. One day, when you are a soldier, I shall advise the king to allow the Colonies their own standing regiment, a continental army, if you will. You've still a long way to go, but I think Lieutenant Alfie here shall suffice for now."

Suddenly the old Brit felt the weight of his young colony tackling him into a hug, and knocking him back onto the bed.

"Easy now, my boy." He chuckled, as America snuggled back under the covers with the Old Brit, finally content. Between the emotionally turmoil and exhaustion of the day, they both fell into a deep sleep in each other's arms, Lieutenant Alfie comfortably settled between them.


End file.
